


I'm Not Good Enough (But You Make Me Feel Like I Could Be, One Day)

by Forever_And_Always_Dreaming



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Bruised knuckles, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Needs a Hug, Fear, Hurt, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Minor Violence, Panic Attacks, Reading Aloud, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sibling Rivalry, Writing, glass, not feeling good enough, octopi, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28224969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forever_And_Always_Dreaming/pseuds/Forever_And_Always_Dreaming
Summary: Remus is really stressed out so Logan comforts him
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	I'm Not Good Enough (But You Make Me Feel Like I Could Be, One Day)

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings include not feeling good enough, minor violence, Intrusive Thoughts, panic attack (but poorly written), blood, glass, and thinking someone else is better then you. Let me know if I should add any others
> 
> Goodness, this was a vent that turned into a full 1,600 words of pure I don't even know. I don't even think any of this makes sense? But I'll post it anyways

He pounds the keys desperately, as tears form in his eyes. He doesn’t have time to cry or figure out how he’s feeling. Feelings are for bitches like his stuck up asshole of a brother who doesn’t spend nearly as much time writing as Remus but gets more praise than he ever will. 

When he finishes his pieces, people don’t beg him for more. They don’t shower him with attention and kind words. They curse at him instead and ask him his _favourite_ question.

“Why can’t you be more like your brother?”

He slams his hands into the keys again at the mere thought of it. It makes him want to punch something. Preferably a certain perfect prince. 

Maybe if he twists Roman’s teeth with his fist and manages to get just enough blood pouring from his lips, dribbling down his chin, he could write poetry about it. 

A horror scene only Remus could pull off because his brother doesn’t write about that kind of shit. 

Roman writes about happily ever afters. Stories where the hero saves the damsel in distress and rides away with them into the sunset. 

But guess fucking what, Roman? Villains don’t get a happily ever fucking after. And he’s sick of acting like that doesn’t matter, because it does. Because Remus is the villain, so where does your brother end up, Roman? 

Alone?

Of course. Of course, of course, of course. He almost laughs at the thought. It only makes sense when you think about it. 

Roman left him, Virgil left him, _Janus left him._ Patton hurt him, Thomas abandoned him. 

Logan might be the only one left, but he’ll hate him too. Everyone does in the end. 

He needs to calm down. He knows that. His hands are hurting from the intensity with which he is writing. 

But he doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t want to lose the flow now. Not that anyone would read it but him anyway.

He would read it over and over again, tearing it apart until it's broken and bleeding and open. He would pick out each part of it that's fucked up, or not enough, or too much as if he’s performing surgery on himself.

“The tree thrashed in the wind” would become “the tree trashed in the wind. It’s gnarly branches reaching to the sky as if praying for a rest from the storm.” But would that be good enough?

No, because no matter what he does or how he does it, Roman will do better. He’s always better because he’s not Remus. 

Not the reject, or the mistake, or the problem child. He’s the perfect fucking kid everyone always wanted. The perfect twin Remus has tried over and over again to be but failed to do so because he’s a fucking _failure._

Familiar hands settle on his shoulders. They curve exactly in the right way to hold him steady and ground him to reality.

“Remus?” A voice asks, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you alright?” 

Remus tries not to shake, tries not to turn around, tries not even to breathe. Logan doesn’t need to know how fucked up he really is. 

“I’m fine.” He grits out after a moment, slamming his hands back down again. He needs to keep writing. He needs to finish this.   
  
But as he does, the hands on his shoulders move away. Remus’s hard drops into his stomach for a second. 

He’s going to leave. He doesn’t want Remus. He hates him. 

The hands return in a second to settle on his own, pulling his bruised fingers away from the keyboard. The pad of a thumb runs along each of the lines on his left palm, soothingly. As if he cares. 

He can’t care. He doesn’t care. He’ll only get hurt if he does.

Remus flinches away violently, shaking his head. He moves his hands to drag through his hair, wincing at the grease of it. 

How long has he been here? When was the last time he had a shower? Why would Logan touch him? He’s disgusting. 

“How about we focus on your breathing instead?” Logan asks, stepping over to kneel in front of him. 

He wants to choke out a dirty joke, but when he opens his mouth to speak, it feels like glass pouring down his throat. Scraping at his insides until they’re bleeding, and bloody, and pounding. 

God, he needs to get back to writing. He doesn’t have time for this. But Logan is speaking again before he can stop him.

“One, two, three, four,” Logan says. He breaths in shakily. It’s the least he can do for wasting Logan’s time.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.” He holds his breath. Well, he tries to, but it pours out of him before he can stop it. 

He can’t breathe. He can’t. He _can’t_. 

His hands go back to dragging through his hair, he’s reminded of the grease, and the writing, and the failure, and Roman. 

God, shouldn’t Logan be with Roman? The perfect prince with the loyal scientist? Remus can see that story being written now. Something dark swarms in his gut at the thought of it.

“That’s okay, Remus. We can start again. One, two, three, four.” Logan assures, starting again as Remus tries his best to catch up.

They go through the breathing exercises a few times before Remus can finally open his eyes. When had he closed them? And take in the sight of Logan. 

His indigo eyes are a storm of worry and concern. His hands are shaking in his lap as he tugs on his lip with his teeth harshly.

“Thanks, nerd.” He manages to choke out. His throat doesn’t feel as scratchy anymore. 

Logan nods, offering him a weak smile before he stands, walking over to Remus’s computer. He saves it, then shuts the computer softly. 

“What are you-”

“You need to take a break. Would you like me to sit with you?” Logan asks, nodding over to the bed. 

Remus wants to protest. He has so much work to do, and so little time, but he doesn’t want Logan to leave. So he nods, taking a shaky stand, and nearly falls over.

Two hands catch him, supporting him, keeping him upright. He leads him over to the bed, where Remus lays down, focusing on the four, seven, eight patterns from earlier.

“Taking me to bed so soon? We haven’t even had dinner yet.” He forces out after a beat. The joke is bitter on his tongue, but it feels normal. Does Logan like normal? 

The other sighs, oddly fondly. Why would anyone be fond of him? Before snapping his fingers, a book appearing into existence. He takes a seat next to Remus, pressing their sides together in a comforting manner. 

Remus watches Logan read for a while, the words, “can you read to me?” On his tongue.   
He knows Logan wouldn’t get mad at him, but what if he does? He can’t lose his only friend now. If they’re even friends. 

God, does Logan even like him? What if he’s forcing himself to stay here because Remus is too much of a fuck up to be able to sit here himself without falling apart like the broken glass that climbs up his throat and god it burns it burns so bad it-

“Do you need something, Remus?” Logan asks, turning to him. He jolts, snapping out of his thoughts to look at the other. 

Indigo eyes search green, pleading for him to be truthful. Logan may be smart, but he is no mind reader. It’s now or never. 

“Could you read to me? Please?” He asks, squeezing his eyes shut after. The glass taste returns, and this time he swallows it. He savours the taste of sharpness, burning at his throat like a heat he’s never tasted before. 

But he has. This is an all too familiar feeling. A feeling he wanted to forget but never seem to be able to. That is until now when soft words break through the silence. 

“A lion is a mammal like us; an octopus is put together completely differently, with three hearts, a brain that wraps around its throat, and a covering of slime instead of hair. Even their blood is a different color from ours; it's blue, because copper, not iron, carries its oxygen.” 

When did Logan find out his love for Octopi? That was always a too-nerdy fact that he kept to himself in fear that the others would think he’s smart or something because he’s not. Not really, not like Logan. 

“I’m sorry, are you not enjoying this story? I can find something else if you would prefer. I just noticed that your logo appears to have an octopus in it and assumed that you had a fondness for them.” Remus’s heart skipped a beat. He pays attention to him?

“No, no, I’m listening. I just didn’t think anyone would catch that.”

“Oh, I see.” The other pushes up his glasses. “I like to pay attention to people I consider good friends. And you, Remus, mean a lot to me.” He means a lot to him? Logan cares for him? He considers them friends?

“I, uh, I get that, nerd. You mean a lot to me as well.” And he does. God, so much. More than Logan would ever know. 

He’s never felt important to the others, but Logan is different. He’s not disgustingly perfect like Roman, a traitor like Virgil and Janus, or a goody-two-shoes like Patton. 

Logan has flaws, and they’re fucking amazing. He’s stubborn to a fault, but he always listens and understands and tries to help. He’s too good. 

Remus swears he sees a blush forming on Logan’s face before the other coughs, clearing his throat. 

“Shall I continue then?” Remus nods. 

And so he spends the next hour listening to the other. It doesn’t solve all his problems, but it keeps the thoughts at bay until he’s comfortable enough to talk about it. 

And that’s more than enough for now.


End file.
